An Unknown Destiny
by E.M.Bryant97
Summary: Meela Nais had never been the most behaved child. And after the tragic death of her father, she finds herself in trouble she never dreampt of. Adding strange visions of ancient Egypt and unusual alliances, Meela Nais is about to find her destiny.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Now, I know Meela isn't characterized much in the Mummy Returns, but I'd like to make it clear that I don't own her character, and I am not taking credit for what Stephen wrote.

**A/N:** So.. I'm back again! After taking a much earned break from writing Mummy fanfics, I decided to try something new and write this one. For those of you that have read my other story Baltus Hafez, this one is somewhat of a prequel to it. I hope this one turns out even better as the last one, and I hope I have some fans out there willing to read and review it!

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><p>"Are you sure you brought all your belongings with you, Meela?" My mother touches my shoulder from the opposite seat in our tiny little car. I nod slowly, letting everything sink into my head. My father is a dead man. My mom is too poor to take care of me. I am being abandoned. I open the door and let myself out, feeling the suffocating Egyptian air fill my insides. This comforts me.<p>

I've been in the desert my whole life. My mother is an Egyptian, as was my father. Being born and raised in a small village on the outskirts of Luxor, my life had seemed as normal as can be. That was, until my father died. The memory still leaves my heart pounding with grief.

It happened a mere year and a half ago, making my soul yearn for his love every time my mind drifts off to his death. He was a humble man, says the way his eyes sparkled with interest on any occasion. A smart man too, says the books lined up in his old study. But most of all, a loving man, one that always had time for his only child. On occasion, the two of us would sneak off into the sand dunes when mother wasn't quite awake, and walk ourselves all the way to the bank of the Nile, where we would sit with knees pulled close to the body, awaiting one of the greatest moments of the day. The best time of day, when the misty air swayed loosely through your hair, yet to be heated by the arising sun. We would just sit there, me and him, patiently waiting for the sun to come and awaken the desert before us. This is our favorite time of day because it reminds us that Ra comes back every day for a new beginning, always there to brighten your day.

One morning, a morning like all the others, we were making our way towards the river, and were almost there when a group of white men came riding up on horses, stopping on the opposite side of the river to let the horses drink. The first man dismounted, letting the horse free from its grasp. It wasn't until he brought his head up to the sunrise that he saw us. He paused for a moment before throwing his head back in a roaring laughter. The others followed, which confused me. Being the young age of eleven, I haven't had many encounters with white people. We were taught the language in school though, which gave me somewhat of an advantage. I didn't get weary until I heard the drawl of his voice. I knew immediately that these men were drunk.

My face grew flushed with anger; they were laughing at us. We haven't done anything wrong.

"Hey!" one of the men hollered at us. When we didn't reply, he called again. I wasn't in any mood to answer, either.

"Them Egyptians're too damn stupid Clarkson! They can't hear ya!" Another man laughed.

"Sure as hell they are!" The third smirked. "But ya know what these here Egyptians are good for, Tom?" The other two looked at him strangely. The man then pulled out a pistol, small in stature, and pointed it at... Me. My heart almost stops in mid pulse. I remember seeing my father yell something harsh before I blacked out.

When I awoke, the whole world was a dark shade of red. It took me a few seconds to reconnect my thoughts to my brain, which seemed to grow a pulse of its own. My brain soon clicked, and I remember. Those drunken bitches are now gone, but Father was nowhere to be found. I looked up and down the river, and still found nothing. But something in my chest wouldn't cave in; a part of me expected him to be waiting for me by the nearby sand dunes, holding out a weathered hand out towards me to take. To hold on to forever.

The sun was searing into my bronzed skin, how foolish it was to be out here in the heat of the day. I felt as if the sun were melting me right into the sand, so I could blow in the breeze and soar above the pyramids. I wanted to move, but my bones were fused together by fear. I was starving. Mother must be furious. Maybe even worried. No. I thought to myself. Mother does not care enough for me to be worried. With the only hope being to see my father again, I slowly made my way to the bank of the Nile, each step into the burning sand leaving my bare feet raw and blistered. I finally took the step into the water, feeling the soothing relief traveling up my body. Using a single hand to shield my eyes, I looked back to where the drunkards were. I can remotely see the prints left by the horses in the caked mud. But something else soon caught the wonder of my eye. The shine of a 22 pistol was lying on its side, almost hidden by the overlapping sand. I wade across the river, which is easier now that the tide has retracted, and gingerly pick up the weapon with my hands. The heat that radiated off the tainted steel burned through my palms.

That's when I noticed the body. It was almost invisible to the eye alone, sprawled under the dried up cattails that once flourished here. I hesitantly lowered the gun back onto the sandy earth, since there was no longer a need for protection. The killing had already been done. Now all that remained was the carnage.

I could tell by the man's sandy hair and gangly mustache that this was the American man that tried to kill me. Immediately recognizing him, I leaned forward, using my bare feet to kick the body, making it roll over so I didn't have to see his face. My heart almost stopped cold- the body moved.

I stifled a yelp. I knew I saw it move. My eyes search for the gun I had in my hands just minutes before. I find the familiar glint and run. By the time my finger found the trigger, he was already staggering to his feet. A river of blood ran dry down the side of his face. He looked at me through pain stricken eyes, a smile that seared right into me. I wasn't quite sure what story he was trying to tell me through that smile. Revenge? Vengeance? Whatever it was, I didn't like it.

He turns his head to the side to spit. Damn American.

"You're still here?" His voice was far too raspy. "I thought was finished with you Egyptians!"

Anger boiled inside of me. "Where is my father?" I yell at him, raising the gun higher so I was looking at him through the eye hole.

He just let out a sick laugh. "Your daddy? I shot him! Blew his crap all over this here sand!"

That did it. I didn't want to hear anymore of this guys crap. He killed my father. And now he's going to die.

I didn't even blink when his body hit the ground.

I closed my eyes tight as I threw the gun in the air, hitting the water with an explosive plop! I sank to my knees, digging my fingers into the cool, wet earth of the Nile bank.

I felt nothing. I thought nothing.

All I could hear was the calm streaming of the water over the smooth rocks that littered the bottom of the river. I wished it could sweep me up with its current, take me somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Daring to open my eyes, I was soon blinded by the intense blue of the water. I sat there for a while, watching the water move wild and free. Then I noticed the faint stream of red mixing with the blue. Though my mind refused to, not wanting to feel any more pain, I followed the stream of red until I came upon the source.

My father's body.

His mouth is closed; with eyes forever showing their grey color to the world. Every wrinkle, every crease on his cheeks belonged only to my father.

I didn't have the strength to stand up again. Instead, I used my arms to push myself over to where he laid, his lower half already sinking deeper into the water. With one hand, I trace the pattern of his shirt before it grabbed his arm. I cringe. I've never liked dead people. Having seen some before, I should've been used to being up close to one. But not when the dead body once belonged to your father.

Before I let go, I muttered a prayer, hoping his spirit makes it to heaven. He's a good man, I tell myself as I let go of his body, letting it drift farther and farther away from me. I watched his reflection until it vanished from my sight.

I stood up then, brushing away the mix of sand and tears that covered my body. I turned around briskly, heading back to the only real home I had. The sand dunes. And I don't look back.

As for the man, I think to myself:

I hoped he burned in hell.

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><p>This memory brings a certain stab to my heart that only my father's murder could bring as I walk up the stone steps towards the Saint Mary's Children's Orphanage. I don't wait for my mother to follow me. She's leaving me now; what could one last moment together possibly do to me? Nothing.<p>

I make sure to keep my head held high, my lips cemented in their firm line across my face. Fear is something that cannot be shown. Not here. I want my impression on the other kids to be certain. I am only here because my mother is a drunk and cannot, no will not; continue to take care of me. She wants nothing to do with me and me her.

The washed out color of the pink building makes the whole place look run down and barren. But once I proceed closer to the entrance, I notice a few children playing hide and seek by the trees that were sputtered along the stretching sand. They seem no older than seven years old. I remember when I used to play hide and seek in the old alleyways near our house. But what was when my father was alive. Now he's dead, and I haven't played hide and seek ever since.

We seem to be alone, just me standing my the entrance and my mom trailing behind me. The kids I saw earlier must've moved farther back into the distance. They were lucky. Most of the children didn't even know who their parents were. My thoughts are interrupted when a woman in a clinging black skirt comes out of the orphanage, arms folded. "Mrs. Nais?" she looks at my mother with hardened brown eyes. I even thought I saw a bit of green in them.

My mother looks up from staring at the sand and smiles. Then she gives me a look that I know all too well. The 'make her believe that you're a nice young lady' kind of look. Also called the 'pretend that your mother takes care of you' look. I smile, having done this lie many times before. This time is no different.

"If you're ready, we can sign the papers now and Meela can start here as soon as possible." the woman too had on a fake smile. I wonder exactly how many eleven year old girls she enrolls in her prison every day. And here I was thinking I was the only person here with a whore for a mother. And my mother nodded, just like I new she would, and preceded towards the door. I followed a few feet behind her, far enough so the sickening smells of cigarettes and stale liquor could quite reach my nostrils.

The woman leads us into a wide room filled with bookshelves and couches, telling us to take a seat on one. And I sit far away from my mother, because I have no need for her pretend love any more. Though she glares at me through eyes of hate, I stay put on the other side of the couch. She no longer has power over me. Her hand strikes my arm when the lady's back is turned, but she quickly retracts when she faces us once again. The woman hands my mother a bunch of papers, which she takes with a pleasured smile. While she works on filling out those papers with whatever lies she comes up with, the woman turns towards me, holding out a hand. I hesitate, since it was that very hand that struck me every time I misbehaved, or every time she was drunken with unknown anger. But her eyes tell me differently, so I put my hand in hers and she pulls me up. Glad to be away from my mother, I follow the lady into another room, and she slowly closes the door behind me.

The lady offers me a seat across from her, which I take graciously. She sits down behind her desk, covered with piles of paper and books strewn every which way. I notice that she sits with her hands folded on her desk and her legs crossed bluntly. She's one of those white Americans, I realize. I feel my muscles tense immediately, and I no longer wish to talk to this woman. Flee was the only thing racing through my mind.

The lady must've seen my uneasiness, because she leans forward, failing to suppress a smile. "It's okay, Meela. You'll be safe here with us. Nobody can hurt you anymore." Quickly, as if only I would notice, she darts her eyes towards the wooden door, and I know she knows.

Suddenly, this place starts to fee like home.

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><p><strong>AN:** Did ya like it? Love it? Hate it? I'd appreciate a review or two! Also, a big thank you to Lyrical Ballads, who has been a faithful follower of my previous story, and hopefully will contunue to give me words of advice on my terrible habbit of switching tenses. Your reviews haven't gone unappreciated.


	2. Five Years Later

**A/N: **Finally, the second chapter is up! I know this one is a lot shorter than the previous one, but there will be more soon.

Again, thanks for the reviews so far! And for those lurkers out there, don't be shy!

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><p>I look down at my plate of food and hold my breath in. <em>That's it,<em> I conclude, _they're trying to kill us._

The lunch room is especially full today; there are people moving about on all sides of my vision. Every conversation in the domed room is meshed into one loud scream booming into my ears. Not that it is anything out of the ordinary. I've grown used to the noise and the commotion over the years of being here enrolled in this hellhole, but never has this many children been seen by my eyes roaming about like lost cattle abandoned by their farmers. Well, that's exactly what we are here.

Abandoned.

But unlike all the other girls, who spend their free time wallowing on dead mothers or fathers who never gave a damn about his family, I got over the whole thing pretty quickly. I knew my mother was never coming back, and obviously my father could never rescue me, so why bother with the crying and the tears? No, my priorities were now focused primarily on not my past, but survival. Yes, I am going to live, while they don't have a chance.

I was going to live.

All the other girls that came here after me have made quick friendships, alliances with each other if you must. But these girls are all white, not leathered skin like mine. I was one of the only Egyptian sixteen year old in my dorm room; sharing it with one African- American and four white girls. I knew instantly when I saw them that I would despise them. That they would never become any friends of mine. There are more Egyptian girls in this place, but they are all younger than me. But honestly, I don't need a friend here. The only one I ever had slipped between my fingers and left me alone to fend for myself. But if there's one thing my father had taught me, it's that the only person that should matter to you is you. And I sure as hell don't need anyone else to come into my life just to desert me and leave me alone. _That's something that will never happen again,_ I promise myself every day. _Never._

I sit in my usual spot at the end of the long table allotted to us, trying to avoid the staring eyes and pointed fingers of the other girls. It's not that the pointing bothers me, but every time I hear a nasty joke, or a see the sneer on their faces, the anger finds a spark within me and my hatred towards them grows. The older I get, the more uncontrollable my patience becomes. Father called it a bad habit, yet Mother referred to my thin ice as a curse from Anubis himself. Not that I bothered to care all that much.

I begin picking at my food, though none of it really satisfies the hunger clawing inside of me. Before I even realize it, all my food is gone. Taking in a deep sigh, I rise up slowly out of my seat to obtain another plate of the tasteless food they serve us here. But when I get up to the row of lunch ladies that are scooping food from ladles out of the huge soup pans, holding my empty plate forward like a scrawny puppy, the lady just shook her head. "Sorry dear, Miss Davidson cut the rations back again for this here week. Ain't nobody gettinseconds today."

Taken back by this remark, I lower my plate reluctantly, the realization that I wouldn't be getting any more food for at least another twelve hours striking through me. But this time, hunger decided to play a nasty trick on my brain, taking control of my skinny little body. "But why?" I say loudly, the lady looking back at me with a fair amount of surprise.

"Missy, you know there's a full blown war out there? Men dying just bout every minute, and you complainin? What kinda Christian are ya?"

"I don't give a shit about any soldiers! I'm hungry!" I hear myself scream out. People are beginning to stop and stare, but the animal inside of me isn't about to die out any time soon.

The lady looked like she was searching for something to say, yet she averts her eyes saying nothing. But I'm not about to finish this quickly. I wheel around, surprised to see the face of one of the girls that lived in my dorm standing an inch from my nose. "Why so hungry? A sudden growth spurt? Sure took you long enough," she smirked, snatching the empty plate from my hands. My mind knows that I should just sit down and say nothing.

But hunger won't listen.

"Didn't you hear me Meela? Nobody's getting any food here! And besides, who'd listen to a scrawny, pathetic girl like you?"

I heard nothing. I felt nothing. All I knew was this girl had something hunger wanted. Revenge.

My hand clench into a fist, and my jaw tightens so much it hurts. The girl takes one last smile before my hand spins forward, hitting her jaw so hard she almost topples backward. She is in too much of a surprise to fight back, more less move.

I feel like a puppet on strings, unsure of who's controlling me and what I'll do next. Something inside of me is doing this, and I don't know what.

Hitting her again, she falls onto her back on the table, blood spewing down the side of her neck.

I look down at my victim, weak and defeated, and I feel something tingling inside of me. Something I've never felt.

But before I could enter the final blow, I feel strong hands around my arms, dragging me away from the girl. I thrash wildly, escape torturing my mind. But the arms just constrict me even more, and I feel helpless. They pick up my twisting body, almost throwing me into a windowless room, shutting the door before I could even look up though the mangled hair that covered my eyes. My breathing continues to race as I lie there, feeling more than light headed. The power that I had felt just moments before was now seeping slowly out of my body, replacing it with darkness. But I remember distinctly what I had felt. Power. Ability to conquer.

And I wanted more.

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><p><strong>AN:** Like I said before, more to come in the next few weeks! Stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** To all my readers, sorry I took so long to update! Sorry you had to wait so long, but you know what they say... Patience is a virtue!

Hope you enjoy!

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

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><p>I can tell by those hard eyes that I am in immense trouble. And I want more than anything to look away from them. But something tells me that I'm not getting away that easily.<p>

"Why did you do it, Meela?" The headmaster's tone sounds stressed, with a hint of betrayal. I want to answer, but I can't. How can I tell her that it wasn't my initial intention? That theory was far fetched, even for me. But, still, those eyes demand an answer.

"Well... I... was hungry, that's all," I say, wanting more than anything to get away. Get away from this hell of a place; the same hell of a place that once saved me from something I thought was worse than death itself. But that was before. Before the fight. Before everything turned on me.

The eyes now stare at me through disbelief, like they are expecting a wonderful and believable excuse to be said that would send me out with a thank you and a smile.

"That's it? You were hungry?" She echoes, letting the words pin me down in my seat. Once again, no words are put in my mouth. I sit, gripping my hands into tight balls, legs twisting to keep them from running to safety. Which now, is anywhere where this lady isn't.

"Meela, I just..." The headmaster begins wearily, with the eyes of reasoning. But instead of continuing on, she closes her mouth, expression softening a bit. Things are once again silenced between us, so much that even my legs stop their movements to see what my prosecutor will do next.

She raises a finger, pointing it towards my pale face, opens her mouth to draw a breath... -then the door creaks behind me. I whirl around in my seat to find the same two men that had grabbed me once before, their faces glowering down at us. The headmaster stands up quickly, startled by their sudden appearance in the office. Thinking they are coming for me, I grip the back of the chair hard, legs ready to run at any moments notice. But instead, tangled in the arms of the two large, and quite intimidating men, is a scrawny boy no older than ten years old; ash and charcoal smeared all over his face. He puts on the goofiest smile as he wriggles out of the men's arms. Taking another glance at the boy before turning my attention to the headmaster, I notice a small tattoo on his wrist, making a shiver crawl down my back.

"Richard O'Connell, what could you possibly do this time?" The lady asks with a strained voice.

"Well miss," he half says, half coughs, "let me ask you this: Did you know that your chimney is in great need of a good cleaning? I basically did you a favor." He grins. The lady rolls her eyes, obviously not hearing this for the first time. I begin to feel really out of place in her tiny office. As if sensing my uncomfortableness, she turns towards me, running a frazzled hand through her hair in fury.

"Go; clean up and rest a bit."

I stare right back at her with disbelief and surprise. She still continues to hold her expression, patiently waiting for me to make the first move towards my safety. My body feels like stone as I hoist myself out of the captivating seat, my legs taking their long strides towards the exit.

When I reach the comfort of the dark, illumines hallways, my nerves are able to calm down their intense clamor and relax. The staircase is long and never-ending; taking an ounce of strength with every step I take. Pushing the door open to my bedroom, I have time to see the rising full moon before sleep elapses my vision, thinking about the mysterious tattoo.

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><p><em>I stand in a magnificent room, with grand pillars etching the perimeter and curtains draped on the golden furniture. Sunlight filters through the open windows, igniting the golden shine every object seemed to touch. It is beautiful. Magical, even. I don't dare move. But then, I hear voices, ampliphying in volume, and I dart behind a large pedestal without a sound. I hear the large, thick doors open with a harsh creak, and the footsteps of two people entering the room, their voices loud as they continue to shout at one another.<em>

_I stay standing in my hiding place, not making a single noise as to give away my position to them. Because if there's one thing my father taught me, it's how to be cleaver. So I wait. My muscles are tense, like a cat awaiting a pounce._

_"Daughter," the make voice speaks, "Anuck-Sunamun is my mistress! She is not to be spoken to in this manner, and that is final!"_

_"But Father, how can we know that she can be trusted? She is always gone somewhere, always missing from ceremonies, and we only see her in training!"_

_The male voice stops abruptly before speaking, apparently looking for something to say to his daughter's remark._

_"Is it jealousy that is turning your words hateful, Daughter? I am sorry if my decision to make her my bodyguard upsets you, but it is what fate wanted for me. You will understand this once you become queen."_

_The female voice does not answer her father's question. Instead, she bows her head respectfully, eyes still set on suspicion. She knows better than to defy her father._

_"Yes, Father." she mutters, turning around to leave through the thick doors. The light is quickly fading from the room we are in, and is replaced by a sudden chill. I tighten my arms to my chest in hope to ease the bumps crawling up my body._

_Before the door closes behind the women, I catch a glance of her long, black hair as it whirls around a slightly tanned face with a kind smile._

_I feel like I should know who this woman is, but I cannot wrap my mind around it. Battling my frustration with my cleverness, I bite my lower lip, inching away from the safety of the pillar._

_"Princess!" my voice yells through the spacious room. But these words are not my own. Again, I feel controlled._

_The Pharaoh turns around towards the call, but I am already out the doors following her. I call her again, with her name still a mystery. The feeling is stronger, like it wants to revolt against me. This time, the woman turns around, and I begin running towards her. I get within ten feet from her when her eyes widen with fear, her mouth in a gaping horror, staring at me as if I'm a ghost. She backs away slowly, completely speechless. Confused, I take a few steps closer to her. "Why are you so scared?" I demanded. But not a sound came out of my mouth. My lips were moving, now forming a scream, but my actions are still futile. I reach out towards the Princess, but my hand falls limply through her body. The scene around me is beginning to blur as I continue to scream my silent scream in agitation. The Princesses aghast expression still runs through my mind._

I feel someone shaking me.

"Meela! Meela! Wake up!" A voice brings me back to my senses. I snap open my eyes with a start. Once they focus, I realize that the voice belongs to the headmaster. I use my elbow to prop myself up on my small, pathetic excuse for a bed and quickly wipe the sweat off my brow. Looking up to face her, I notice a worried expression etched upon her face. This makes me nervous. I haven't done anything wrong... Lately.

"Meela," she says softly, placing a hand on my shoulder, "there is someone here to see you." The headmaster then turns her head towards the open door, and waves a hand that beacons that "someone" forward. The room is dark, but I see a tall, slender figure emerge from the shadows.

My throat tightens immediately, and suddenly my whole world becomes black as night.

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><p><strong>AN:** Cliffhanger. I know, I just had to be mean! But don't fret, updates will come soon :) The questions will be soon answered...


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Wow, lots of new stories on The Mummy archive latley! I've been reading over some of them, and they're really good so far! Keep up the good work mummy writers! And for those who loved young Rick in the previous chapter, don't worry, he's coming back for some action! Hope you enjoy :)

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><p>The cold slashes onto me like daggers. My whole body shakes with a start as I slowly bring the life back into me. Eyes darting up, the headmaster is looking down at me, holding a vase full of water shamelessly in her hands. I am about to heave a sigh of relief- though I am now soaking wet- because the scene I blacked out to looks nothing like this.<p>

"Please tell me that she's alright, Lisa." A chilling voice from the corner of the room spoke.

_Damn, things can never perfect, can they?_ I mutter to myself.

And suddenly, two meals a day and daytime persecution doesn't seem so horrible.

To further confirm my grisly suspicions, the all too familiar smell of caked whine and charred remains of smoke began to attack my insides. Though masked by the strong stench of pawn shop perfume, the malodorous smell I've lived with for years was back running through my lungs, much to my body's displeasure.

"Meela's fine, Ms. Nais." Her responding voice reassured, "she is still a tad weak, though. Best to keep her off her feet."

I let out a groan, slowly maneuvering myself up until I was into a sitting position, receiving myself a relieved sigh from the headmaster.

"Are you feeling okay?" She whispered, putting a levying hand on my shoulder with a tender squeeze. I nod, refusing myself to look towards my mother.

A long, unbearable silence enters the room, making me shift uneasily under the sheets that were covered in sweat. The headmaster eyes me sympathetically, and I recall the first time I met her. And I remember that she knows.

Timidly, she begins to speak the sentence that I dreaded. "Meela, your... Mom is here to-"

I am already on my feet; the dizziness in my head wasn't about to stop me now.

"_No!_" I scream; the hatred overflowing as I take my first looks in years at my wrenched mother. "You're _not_ taking me back to live in your hellhole! I won't! This place has been more of a home then I ever _dreamed_ of!" I turn towards the headmaster, my tone now full of disparity. "You can't make me go back with her! Can't you see what she's done to me?" My voice breaks, and for a moment I'm afraid that I might start crying.

My mother's face is still knotted into a stone hard, expressionless stare as she tries to look concerned for my wellbeing. But she's not stupid, and knows that the headmaster veers towards my opinion rather than hers. _Hell, it's going to take a lot more than fake charm to pull this one off,_ I nearly smirk.

The headmaster looks at me devastated, as if not knowing what exactly to say to me. But she clears her throat, and tries giving off a tiny smile.

"Don't worry, she only wants to talk to you for a minute." She says softly.

I keep my eyes set on the window across from my bed, trying so very hard to focus on my mother when there is a perfectly memorizing dog outside laying shit all over the lawn.

I balance these two topics in my head, while the headmaster and my mother staring at me like they could sense my debate over the shitting dog.

Sighing, I blink, tearing my eyes from the window and back to the headmaster, setting my jaw.

"I do not want her here." I say soberly, clenching my fists tight. She must know how much I hate her. But the headmaster remains still; her mouth closed as she knows nothing she can say will change Mother's decision.

And I am right. My mother gets up, coming towards me with something wonderful on her mind. I can tell because of her twisted smile. She lays a hand on my shoulder; giving me a hard squeeze with the grip of her hand. Whenever my father did this action to me, I remember always feeling his warmth transfuse into me, giving me a feeling of happiness and reassurance. All I feel now is a chilling frost traveling through my body- one so sudden that I have to pull away to prevent the cold from swallowing me entirely.

"It's been so lonely without you home," she says softly. So softly, that if I didn't know better, I'd say that she was actually trying to be nice. I show her my genuine smile.

"Well, this is my home now Mother. They even give you your own bed, and food- twice a day!"

Mother's smile quickly fades, and I know I have won. She removes het hand off my shoulder (which was beginning to numb) and opens the door, apparently wanting me to follow. Quickly glancing at the headmaster with her sorrowful eyes, I get up and head for the door, knowing the only way to get away is to forsake my anger and hear what she has to say.

So, with a steel heart, I enter through the door.

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><p>I don't look at her.<p>

I don't let her touch me.

All I do is simply stand in the small hallway, waiting for her to talk. I know she will say something important, because she has already been through more than she needed to have me right here in front of her. This is exactly how I planned my days on my own.

I hear my mother take a deep breath, so I prepare myself for the worst. "I have someone here who wants to see you," she says quietly. But I could still sense the carelessness and hate in the tone of her voice. Not bothering to look at her, I continue to stand, waiting for her to finish. "His name is Masud Ptolemy. He is a blood relation to Ramses himself-"

I smile for a second. This is about to get interesting.

"-and Meela," she waits for my eyes to reach hers before she continues. So I grind my teeth together and subdue my wrath, locking my brown eyes with hers.

"I have decided for you to marry him."

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><p>I am completely stunned. But then I begin reasoning with myself. What better way to have untold riches than to force your daughter to marry it?<p>

My eyes fall to the floor, no longer able to look at my mother. I know she is getting angry at me; it was one of my bad habits as a child to remain silent as I try processing the information given to me. But with a mind reeling as much as mine, a response was still choked inside my throat.

"You look at me this instant," my mother growls, grabbing my jaw and whipping me closer to her body. The smell of liquor is so strong now, any precautions I have about obeying are long gone. I wrench myself out of get grip, letting myself fall onto the floor. She comes near me with her hand raised, as if waiting to hit me. The immediate reaction is one of a protective stance, but this is no match for my new obtained power.

"You son of a bitch." I snarl, shooting her with my dark gaze that sticks on her for a moment before I pick myself up. My mother seems fairly astounded by my remark, for I had always been one to cower in fear when beaten at home. But she quickly reverts herself, knowing that it would have to take more to make me marry an obsolete stranger. Before I can react, she grabs a handful of my long, black hair, partially dragging, partially throwing me towards the front door.

Screaming, I twist and thrash about like a fish ripped out of the water, my mind begging to get away. I am no longer weak as I was in my youth; though skinny, my muscles are strong. After many failed attempts, I finally yank myself out of my mother's tight grip. But instead of running back to the room I awoke in, my hand stiffens, and brings itself back, before coming down hard as a slap on my own mother's face. She lets out a small noise indicating pain, so I know I must've hit her hard. Stepping backward, her hand covering her face reveals a huge red mark where I'd struck her. My mother still continues to wail until the door behind us creaks open. The headmaster is standing there, arms crossed. She gives us each a long and hard state before holding out to me a long and curved finger, apparently ignoring my mother for the time being. I take a few steps closer to her, slowly following get into the room. She's glaring at me.

But damn, it felt good.

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><p><strong>AN:** Hopefully I'll be able to update in a week or two, but who knows? Spring Break is coming (finally) and have tons of plans this year. And for those who care, one review for me will now equal TWO reviews on two of your stories (one on each). Now that's a fine proposition, don't you think? More to come!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **This chapter was especially long to write. I realize that it is the longest chapter of this story so far. This chapter is my attempt of capturing in my own creative way what happened to Rick on the day he recieved his tattoo. And for those who wonder about Meela and the arranged marrige, that will be coming soon. Happy reading!

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><p>Some say that only bad people can do bad things. I find this idea completely ridiculous. I don't consider myself to be the bad guy, even though lately my mind doesn't seem to think so. But somehow, I find myself back in the headmasters corridor, sitting in that same wooden chair that makes me so very uncomfortable. And the eyes are once again boring into me.<p>

"Twice in one week?" Is all she can say. I know, I say inside, I can't believe it either. Even though my Mother completely deserved what came to her, I know I still have to be punished for it. And it's not like I haven't been in this trouble before. When I was nine, I swiped an apple from one of the food stands sitting out in the city. Who could blame me? Unfortunately, the owner of the stand saw me eating it around the corner, and have me a pretty hard beating for it too.

I should say that I know better, but that would be just too easy. Survival doesn't follow rules in the real world.

"I have to say Meela," she says, more kindly, "I didn't know you had it in you."

I glance at her slowly, feeling somewhat of a prideful swell grow within me. "I know; neither did I,"

Not wanting the slightest to enter another one of our famous silent moments of our many times together, the headmaster continues to speak. "But that does not excuse you from your actions, young lady. Violence is not accepted here. You will be punished."

I try not to smile. She's trying so hard to find ways to make her look good for the occasional wandering eye here at the orphanage. And for everything she has done for me, I decide to go along with it. "Yes ma'm, I know what I have done here to my poor whore of a mother was wrong." I speak with a cool headed monotone of voice. "So I accept any sort of punishment you are going to give me."

And that was actually the truth. I didn't mind punishments, as long as they didn't involve much infliction towards me. Surely this orphanage didn't offer whipping as a form of punishment.

The headmaster stands up in her chair, and locks eyes with me. "I charge you, Meela Nais, with four days of watching over one of our oldest members here." she stops for a moment, as if recalling a faraway memory. "Ah, Rick O'Connell. Been here ever since he was a baby. You see, every other worker here has either quit or refused to babysit him because he's.. Well, he's a free spirit, that's for sure. Your job is to make sure he doesn't get into any more trouble around here, you hear?"

I nod, slowly at first. A babysitting job? I've never had any brothers or sisters (that I know of), so spending time with little kids really isn't the top priority in my life. But if it means clearing the whole mom issue, then so be it. Besides, I think, he's only ten. How bad can he be?

However, the look on the headmasters face told me that that wasn't the case to the slightest.

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><p>Smiles can be misleading, you know.<p>

Rick looks up at me with a grand old grin upon his face, one that I know means absolute trouble. I stand uncomfortably as I watch him stare at me with those huge but intiminating blue eyes of his. "So," he teeters on his toes, "did the headmaster lady really assign you to watch me?"

I smile a bit. "Yeah, she did. Apparently you cause the upmost trouble around here."

His grin widened as he stuck out his hand towards me. I'm surprised, because nobody's offered me a proper handshake before. I guess that goal is being fulfilled by a ten year old boy.

"Richard O'Connell, mastermind of this school. But call me Rick, because I hate it when people call me Richard."

I shake his hand quickly and retract. "So Rick, what happened to your parents?" -Not that I really cared at this point- "My dad's dead, and my mom doesn't want me."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes looking down. "I don't really know exactly. The lady says that they left me here when I was a baby. But I don't need parents," he huffed, jutting his chin out like he knew what he was talking about. "I'm perfectly fine on my own, always will be."

I speedily realize that I might actually like this kid. "What do you do for fun around here?" I ask, curious to know what "fun" is for him. Rick smiles, as if he was expecting this question to uncover itself in this conversation. He opens the door behind him slowly and checked to see who else were around at this hour. It was empty by what I could see. He gingerly steps into the barren room, strolls towards a half open window, and beckons me to follow. "Common," he grins. "Let me show you,"

I can see the blue blazing a flame of wonder and amazement as they span over the grand view of Cairo. The wind felt especially wonderful combing through my hair, and I suddenly feel an unknown source of overwhelming comfort. I think of my father.

"I always go up here when headmaster isn't watching me. Which is almost never, you know," he gives a lopsided smirk, seeming to be having the same exact sensations I got upon coming up to this secret getaway. "Are you sure nobody knows we're up here?" I ask. "The headmaster has already saved my ass twice since I've been here, and it's not going to happen again."

Rick lets out a small laugh. "I thought you hated it here,"

Hugging my legs to my chest, I shake my head in sheer humor. "I never said I didn't. But what I don't need is some lady telling me what I can and can't do. That's for me to decide."

"Do you ever think of running away?" He says more quietly, as if someone were listening.

Now it's my turn to laugh. "I have nowhere else to go, you see. Nobody in this world wants me, and I don't want them. You have anything you want to do with your life?" Well, the possibilities for a ten year old are endless. His eyes blaze to life again. "Someday my life will be some hell of an adventure," he smiles with determination. "But for now, I'm stuck here. And I've tried running away, but the damn guards keep on finding me." Rick rolls his eyes, and I stifle another smile. I haven't smiled like this in years.

One question still pulls at me, though. I dare my eyes to look down his arm towards the mark. "Rick," I steady my voice at a quiet level. "Where exactly did you get that tattoo?"

He suddenly became very distant; I even catch a glimpse of fear flashing through his eyes. "First things first," his face becomes hardened and serious. "You swear not to tell anyone?"

I nod slowly. "Who else is there to tell in this goddamn place anyway?"

Then, Rick takes in a deep sigh, placing his words carefully in his mind before speaking them. "I was out walking around Cairo a few weeks ago with Mat and Clark after hours- the headmaster doesn't know this of course- when Clark dared Mat and I to take a necklace from one of the tables laying out. So, obviously I did, and soon we were all running down the street with two officers chasing after us at full speed. We began to run out of ideas soon after- and I knew that I was going to get into even more trouble if I got caught. Then I saw an alleyway coming up to the right of us, and suddenly, I get this crazy idea to turn in there. So I do, and I think Mat and Clark were following behind me. I still don't know where the hell I was headed- I just ran. I could hear my friends yelling in confusion behind me, but I still keep on running through the twisted alleyways searching for something, or someone. People around us were looking at us crazy; not like the locals haven't seen the three of us around of course. I think the guards lost our track then, because Mat was shouting at me to stop. But I didn't, you see, I don't know why. Clark and Mat still followed me though; guess they knew I was getting myself into more trouble.

The sun was setting when we first entered the main section of the city, so it was almost dark intertwined inside those skinny little alleys. I still don't know where I'm going, either-" Rick stops abruptly and gives me a hard look. "Are you listening to me? I don't have to tell ya this, you know. I have better things to do."

Taken aback by his abrupt and sour remark, I hold my hands in the air at the same level as my head and lock my eyes with his. "No, no, continue! Please Rick; you can't leave me hanging like that,"

He lets out a sigh, and sets his jaw. "And I know how you feel, kid." I add before it's too late, putting on a small smile for the boy. Rick cocks his head to the side in childish confusion- which I anticipated- so I quickly draw a breath to finish what I have to say. "I mean, having that feeling that makes you do weird stuff. I get it,"

His daring blue eyes give me a sign of disbelief, yet he doesn't react in any other way. "Okay," he says, looking very worn out. "I'll tell you what happened- but you still can't tell anyone." Rick's tone turns into a deathly one, and I soon begin wondering what he would do to me if I were to spread it around the orphanage. What would the others say?

"Anyways, I finally find my way out of that hellish maze, and soon the three of us were scampering through the sand, looking for someplace to hide- which is hard to do when your feet keep on falling deep into the cruddy stuff. But then, in the distance, my eyes could make out a tiny little house with smoke puffing out the chimney. Even though the guards lost our track, they surely find us, or even track us back to the orphanage. I can hear Mat practically chocking in exhaustion- he's never been the fastest runner of the group- and I'm pretty sure Clark was holding up fine behind me. Somehow we made it to that little house, and I get up my remaining energy to climb up the broken stairs to the door. I suppose the polite thing would've been to knock on that door, but you see, I'm not the most polite kid in the world-" his lips quickly form into a sheepish grin infused with true sarcasm. "So we walked inside," Rick continues, "and Clark went pawing through the cabinets looking for some candles to light while Mat and I started grabbing chairs to block up the door. After several failed attempts at lighting the damn matches, Clark grabbed one from the depleting pile he found in a drawer, gripping it tight before slashing it across Mat's face. Well, it caught fire fine. I could see that Mat was fuming- even though I could hardly see at all- so I yanked the lighted match out of his hands right as Mat pounced on top of Clark. They were on the floor, beating the shit out of each other; I didn't even try to stop them. I checked the window to make sure nobody was following us. It was all clear, so I loosen up a bit and did a little sightseeing around the place while Mat and Clark continued to knock each others teeth out.

I thought we were safe. I thought we were all alone. But from somewhere inside the house I heard a faint creak from weight on the wood floor. I jumped up, and tried to tear my friends apart from each other as quickly as I could. It didn't really work though, because Clark is pretty strong. Almost as strong as I am. So I stood up, and began yelling at them to stop. Of course, they don't listen. I heard the noise again, and I began to panic. I thought they were coming for us. I started prowling around the place, looking for something for my defense. After what seemed like forever, I found a long stick, kind of pointy, and held onto it hard. I turned around then, wanting badly to start beating my two bastards of friends with it; instead, seeing a large and grim looking man uncover in front of my eyes. I held the stick farther away from me, poised for attack if necessary. The man just smiled- I couldn't tell if it were a nice smile or a sarcastic smile- towards Clark and Mat, who were still fighting, not noticing that he was standing right before us. He then directed his eyes towards me, and kept it there for a short while. I hated him staring at me like that, but to tell you the truth, I couldn't stop staring at him either. The man had tattoos all over his face. He said, 'I knew you would come, young one'. Of course, now Mat and Clark noticed the man, and stopped fighting and got up without a sound. Their mouths hung open when they saw his tattoos. The man turned his gaze back towards them, and after a few long, terrifying seconds, they fled towards the door, opened it, and ran away like the cowards they are." Rick smirked, "I got them back for that one."

I am still sitting there, not knowing how much time has passed since the encounter with my mother. My punishment has turned into an intriguing conversation with a very strange and captivating boy. I hope the Headmaster is happy, I say to myself inside my head.

Then, realizing that Rick is still going on with his story, I tune myself back in.

"The man was holding some sort of box thing in his hands, and he started advancing towards me. I was real pissed that my friends ditched me like that, but I still held my ground and tried acting all tuff- maybe scare him off,"

"You're ten."

"I've scared off people before." He says to me with narrowed eyes. I would protest, but I just want to hear the end of this invigorating story. So I allow him to continue.

"The man told me, 'I had a feeling that you would come, I knew you would come' then called me a name... A very strange name. I don't remember it, though. Then he kept coming towards me, holding the box thing out in front of him like it was some kind of weapon or something. My instinct told me to run, told me I didn't have a chance against this man. But I couldn't. It kind of felt like I was under some sort of spell, too. Don't tell the guys though. They don't need to know all of it." Rick says more quietly. I give him a serious nod, and beacon for the poor boy to finish his story. He takes a deep breath.

"He started chanting this weird sort of song under his breath. I remember seeing Egyptian marks on the box he was holding. Then after that- all blank. I don't remember any more after that. Nothing. I don't remember how much time went by went by after that, but then suddenly, I opened my eyes. I was not in that house anymore. Instead, I wad back in the orphanage, in my bed. I sat up, looking around in confusion. I felt a burning sensation on my right arm, so I rolled up my sleeve to see the tattoo slapped right on my wrist." He rolls up his own sleeve now, and I lean in to take a better look at it. It is hard to pick out the individual shapes, but I think I see an eye, and something that looks like a big pyramid. I have no idea what it means.

"That's it? Just like that?" I ask in disbelief. Rick nods.

"Yeah. Pretty freaky if you ask me,"

I let out a cat like smile. "And how do you know if you can trust me, Rick?"

He smiles, and leans in further. "Who is there to tell, remember?"

What an interesting child, this one is.

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><p><strong>AN: **I just love writing about Rick's past! There is just about a thousand ways to write him as a kid. I tried my hardest to keep his original character, so, tell me what you think? I'm always open to ideas!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This chapter is a short one, sorry! But I'm sure many of you are just dying to see who Masud really is...

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><p>There is a knock at my door.<p>

A very loud knock, I must say, but it isn't like I don't know who is at my door. _Mother might've come with him,_ I presume, but she knows better than come back to this orphanage. It's just me and the prince.

Lucky me.

I slowly get up from my bedside, hurriedly running my hands through my knotted black hair. Usually I don't worry about my outer appearance; but now, out of the inner depths of my heart, I decide to give the man a break and make this whole ordeal a whole lot easier for the both of us.

I have already decided that I hate him.

He is just a pawn in my mother's twisted game, nothing more. I walk over to the door, not to keep the man waiting any longer, and open it slowly.

The man standing in front of me looks nothing like I pictured him to be. His hair is a sandy brown color, which folds around his tanned face. He is wearing traditional Egyptian clothes; they fit his body well. He looks at me through eyes that look well- almost green. I have never in my life met any Egyptian man with green eyes like this. If that wasn't enough, he is smiling. His smile is sweet, and somehow I can tell that it is genuine. But most surprisingly, he is holding a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. This is shocking, because these are the only flowers that are native to this part of the works, flowers that almost never grow more than an inch before they shrivel up and get buried in the moving sands. To have this many flowers, perfectly bloomed, just for me, well, it makes me sick.

Does he actually want to go through with this?

"Did she have to pay you at all to get you to come?" I say absent mindidly, just to pass some time, since I know he will be here for a while.

He gives me a confused look, and silently closes the door behind him. "Nobody payed me anything. Your mother is friends with my father."

"Of course she is," I smile broadly, folding my arms across my chest.

"...and she said that you were a nice young lady in need of a good husband, and my father simply agreed." Masud finished, obviously waiting for me to say something next.

"Wait- you had no say in this either?" I ask in disbelief. He nods slowly, soon realizing the flowers still clutched in his hands.

"Oh. These are for you," he remembers, handing me the most beautiful living flowers I've ever seen. It takes a few seconds, but I reach out my arm and take them from him. I have no idea what to do with them, since I've never taken care of flowers in my life, so I walk over to my bedside and lay them on top of my sheets.

When I walk over to my groom again, I figure it's time to get things straight with him before things grow more complicated. "Look- Masud. I know I have no power to say this, but I don't plan on marrying any time in my life. I take care of myself and myself only. I don't want you sharing my horrible life."

I expect him to be shocked, or mad at the least. But he keeps his eyes steady on mine and keeps a relaxed expression. "But we have to marry, Meela. It is an arranged marriage. You will be subjected by me. Not that I would ever treat you wrongly, of course, but it will be done. Our destiny is sealed,"

"I have no destiny," I peruse, getting angry now.

Masud keeps his cool head and doesn't take his eyes of me. "Everybody has a destiny, Meela. You just have to find it,"

I shrug, knowing that just plain telling him to go away won't work this time. "Maybe. But something I know my unknown destiny won't be including you." I try to stab my words with as much force as I can muster. And it works too, because his face turns pink under his smooth skin and he moves his eyes to the floor. I've done this sort of thing too many people in my past, and I've always been fine with it; hardly having any regrets or second thoughts. But for some reason, I can't stand to see him looking this. A battle soon erupts in my head as my uncertainness collides with my survival instincts. "Fend for yourself" met with "why does he have to suffer?", making me feel dizzy. I can hear Masud saying something apologetic towards me, but I can't hear any of it. It feels as though a thousand voices were screaming inside my head...

I had to stop this. I force my eyes to look at the man, and open my mouth. "I'm sorry my mother forced you into this-" I blurt out, surprising my guest with my sudden change of heart. My mind slows down a bit, making the weight on my chest lift, and allowing me to breathe again.

Masud smiles down at me. "Common, Meela, it's not all bad. I mean, we're forced into this together, so why not try making something good out of it?" He saw the perplexed look on my face and quickly answered the question for himself. "What I meant to say is, can't we just... You know, try being friends first?"

I sigh, still confused as to what I am actually doing with this guy. I've never done this with anyone in my past before. But, for some reason, I just can't turn my back on this man like I've done with everyone else that has been thrown into my life.

"Sure. Guess we can try,"

His smile turns into a relieved one and nods. "Well, I've got to go back to my village. My father is waiting." He says slowly, heading for the door. Before he leaves, though, he turns back around and looks at me. "And Meela? You're always welcome to stop by," he grins, looking worried for what my reaction would be.

I don't know what to say exactly, so I just nod uncertainly. Masud looks relieved as he silently passes though the door.

Letting out a frustrated groan, I let myself fall back onto my bed and close my eyes. Though my mind is filled with a buzzing chaos, surprisingly; I feel myself drifting away from reality as the room melts into a calming blackness.

For the first time, I sleep silently; without a sound.

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><p><strong>AN:** Meela can't be all evil, right? I had so much fun playing with her emotions in this one!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Yeah, I know I haven't updated for a while. But lucky for you, another long chapter!

And for future reference, here's how you play the Egyptian game Senet. The object of the game is to get your piece all the way past the Anubis pieces to the other side of the board. You roll the dice and move how ever many spaces. You either land on a "safe" square or a "danger" square, the danger square being one where an Anubis piece can potenctially "kill" you, depending on the dice player two rolls. The game goes on until either an Anubis piece gets the other player's piece, or the other player makes it safely to the other side of the game board.

If that's in any way confusing, sorry, tried my best. It's a pretty complicated game.

Hope you enjoy!

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><p>I walk myself down the wooden stairways, almost forgetting the last step was there, catching myself before I fell. What a sight that would be. I stroll right into the kitchen and grab the last ripe apple off the table. I take a huge bite out of it, letting the juice drip slowly onto the floor. The lady behind the counter glares at me, remembering me of course, and I let out a pleasured smile before leaving through the back doors.<p>

The weather is growing hot again, which gives me relief. Something about walking through the desert on a bright sunny day clears up my mood. And for the day I have planned, I'm going to need my nerves calm. That's just what I need, somebody else on my bad side. Not that anyone is on my good side, but the adding list of enemies I create gets larger by the minute.

I tie my hair back into a braid down my back as I continue to trudge through the sand. My mind should be filled with the usual contradictory war by now, but somehow I feel less stressed this time about Masud. It's quite simple: I either have a good time over there and continue to visit him in his village, or I blow up, leave, and never come back. And if I were to enjoy my time there, then what? Does this mean that my mother has won yet again?

These questions jab at me over and over, but I refuse to let them stop me. Today is the day for answers.

Sweat rolls down the side of my head, and clings to the back of my linen shirt. The sun burns on my bare shoulders. I take one final bite of my apple before tossing it beside my feet, burying it with a quick motion of my feet. Everything around me is bare and desolate; not a single trace of human existence in any direction I look. Suddenly, a slight recollection of a little girl trudging through the sand beside her father came into my mind. And I almost even smile.

The sun is finally beginning to become lost in some stray clouds by the time I see the first signs of a village.

Dogs prowling through the dunes stop to look up at me before returning to their bantering. I've been to native villages like this before in my earlier years, sent often by my father to trade and collect overdue revenues. These desert people were usually humble and hardworking in the scrawny fields of vegetables they managed to germinate in this barren wasteland we all call home.

As I near the village, I notice more and more women moving about in the heat of the day, carrying baskets of greens from the gardens back in preparation for the evening meal. I begin to where Masud is. All the tiny mud made houses look the same, and irritation is proding behind my back. I turn to begin another row when I hear his voice behind me.

"You actually came?" he says with surprise.

I smile. "Yes. And I'll feel free to leave any time I please,"

He gives a shrug. "Fair enough for me. Common," he offers, "it's cooler inside."

I cannot pass up an offer like this. My face is still red from the intense rays and sweat covers me literally from head to toe. But I don't mind that much. Egypt is in my blood, and I've had worse.

His house is plain and simple: two beds, a carved table and cooking pot, and a small shelf lined with different books. I see the Koran sitting on the top of the shelves, looking rather well kept compared to the other books covered with dust and age. I roll my eyes, failing to confer my smirk. Where is that precious God of his now?

"It's not much, but it's home." Masud says, bringing my attention back to him and my purpose here.

"What to you plan on doing? I have to be back to Hell before the sun sets. And if I get caught, I'm blaming it all on you," I smile sweetly.

Masud is still grinning at me. I just don't get this man.

"What are you smirking at?" I demand, sounding like a charismatic old married woman.

God, what am I doing to myself?

"Your sarcasm," he shakes his head, "it gets me every time! You're very good at it, you know. Lots of practice, I suppose?"

I shouldn't have to tell him an answer. Everyone who is able to put up with me for more than a day knows that answer. Not that many people make it that far.

Masud walks over to the disarrayed shelves, and digs through them like the mangy dogs I saw on my journey here did. Desperate. Desperately stupid.

"Aha!" He exclaims, pulling out a black box with his hands. When the eruption of dust elapsed, along with my coughing, I could see the five letters written neatly on the side.

Senet.

I immediately recall the time my own father introduced me to the Egyptian game; I was only seven. The first time we played, he beat me. Second time, I beat him, along with every other time we engaged in the game up until his death. It was a fun game, too- fun as in... Interesting. Entertaining. Not the petty games that most girls play. No, Senet was a game of strategy, a game of memory and skill. That was my kind of fun.

"You ever played Senet?" Masud grins, tossing the box onto the small table in front of us.

"Yeah, pretty damn good at it too,"

He raises an eyebrow, and pulls himself up a chair. I do the same.

"There's not a single person here in this village that I can't beat. I am the best, after all." He scoffs, lifting up his chin to further add to his pathetic role play.

"Is that a challenge?" I ask indefinitely. Of course it was.

He lays out the board in the middle of the table, carefully setting each pawn in its spot.

I smile in remembrance of the different pieces, knowing exactly how to use them to my advantage.

His green eyes narrow a bit as he takes his first turn, slowly moving his marker over two spaces, landing on a safe space. With no caution, my arm stretches out and I grasp one of the statues of Anubis.

Let the games begin.

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><p><em>"Meela, remember, the main goal of the game is to get to the other side of the board. You want to land on as few danger squares as you can. Do you understand?"<em>

_I remember my quick little nod of the head as my father laid out the pieces. "Do you want to know a little secret about how to win, Meela?"_

_Of course, the answer was a yes._

_My father smiled. "Always have the upper hand. If you keep your mind set on making it to the winning square, you won't win,"_

_"Why?" My little head cocked to the side in curiosity._

_"Because Senet isn't about finding the fastest way to victory, it's about finding the pathway that may be longer, but will give you the most chance of success in the end."_

At first, Father's words made no sense to me. But I caught on quickly.

"Okay Meela. Your turn." Masud says, overlaying what I've done so far. I peer down at where my pawn is now, and immediatley realize that my only option is to land myself on a danger space. But, life is all about taking risks.

I hold my breath as he rolls the dice, knowing that a five would ruin me for good. But instead, it falls onto a two, much to Masud's disappointment.

It might've taken two hours, but I now only have one final turn until my victory. I reach over the table and snatch the dice out of his hands, the odds now highly in my favor. Anything over a two would land me on top in the end. And I want so badly to beat this boy.

My arm swings backwards as I unlatch my fingers from they dignity, my pride, and thrust them onto the open surface. The fierce heart inside of me stopped.

It was a one.

Masud let out a shocked laugh, trying to mask the fact that he himself thought he was a goner.

I am completely paralyzed. How in the name of Anubis could I let this happen? I can't find the strength to look into his eyes, only to see his sheer pleasure radiating from those shitty green eyes.

Slowly I bring my reluctant hand forward to move my pawn one square over to the side. I keep my stare on my pawn as his hand moves his Anubis piece directly in front of mine, ending the game.

I remember the one other time I had lost a round of Senet. My father had given me a sympathetic look as he noticed my hardened stare.

_"Everyone looses at one point or another, Meela. The objective is to come back harder next time. Do you think you can do that?"_ My father had told me.

I didn't answer for a while, the first feelings of defeat drowning me with anger. Not towards my father, but towards the mere bitterness loosing brought me. I was young then. That's when I became such a bad looser. It was a weakness that often got the best of me, the main fuel for my frustration and hatred. Winning was what I was good at. Winning made me feel powerful.

"Well, Meela. Ready to bow down to the new master of Senet?" Masud laughs, sounding more than pleased with himself. I look up at him with narrowed eyes, but my expression soon softens a bit. For some reason, I just can't get mad at this bastard.

"In your dreams pretty boy." I scoff, rolling my eyes to add to the effect. "You just got lucky this time,"

Masud raises an eyebrow. "Have I now? I told you there's nobody in this village I can't beat!"

"Damn you!" I laugh, pulling myself to a stand. I want so badly to beat him. Just one more game, and the tables will turn.

Before I can challenge Masud to a rematch though, the door opens, and in steps a man who I presume to be his father, grim faced and dark eyed.

I stiffen up immediately and wipe the grin off my face. He is the leader of this village, after all. Masud does the same. I wonder if life for him is always like this.

"You were supposed to be at lessons today, Masud." His voice is hard as ice, and echoes against the stone walls.

Masud looks as if he has a loss of words, holding his breath in as he exchanged his glances between me and his father.

"Masud." He snapped, his deep and intimidating voice cutting through the thin air.

I watch as his green eyes travel up to meet the eyes of his father. He opens his mouth slightly, words seamlessly stuck in his throat. "I was just spending time with Meela. I mean- we are going to be together so I thought-"

"What you_ thought_ about just might have ruined your chances of becoming king! Skipping lessons? Forgetting your duty? Over what, some ratty schoolgirl?" He says, turning an angle to point an accusing finger at me.

I retain my desire to laugh right in his face, to walk away without another word. But that would be all top easy, you see. Blowing in front of the leader of my husband to be would mean the end of our "relationship", the release of my mother's deathly grasp on my soul. My mother will never stop, though. Not until she gets what she wants. So instead of unleashing my rage, why not have a little fun?

Cocking my head to the side, I unleash the finest "girl" smile I can muster.

"Oh, will you look at the time! I'll best be on my way now, got a lot of studying to be getting on with," I say, edging my voice with of a clueless teenage girl. I can already see Masud straining to retain his laugh, but keeps it under control under his father's watch.

"I had a lovely time with you today, Masud." Maybe indeed some of that wasn't pure falsehood, but now wasn't the time to bring that up. I want to get out of here so badly, but I feel one more thing is necessary yet. Walking closer to Masud, I grab his shoulder and quickly press my lips against his, before scurrying out of the tiny house and back into the desert.

* * *

><p>I'm shocked to see the sun setting already, hovering above the sand dunes. Last time I checked the weather it was the heat of the day. I try not to think about what the headmaster would say or do to me, or about the kiss.<p>

The kiss.

Why had I done it?

It would have been so easy to simply waltz out of there after perfecting my innocent schoolgirl bit. I have no clue why my mind resorted to such a thing; I didn't even have an urge to kiss that man. I've never, ever, in my whole existence, wanted to kiss anyone before. And I assured myself that hopeless romance was without a doubt not the life for me. Such a pathetic love would surely bring me to my death; my whole being vulnerable for sudden attack.

To get rid of my building frustration and worry, I break into a run, the lack of sun perfectly combining the cool night air with the lingering steam around me.

I run and run, knowing all too well that my actions might mean the end of me.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: It's been a while, hasn't it. I'd like you, dear reader, to meet my new word of the month: Proctrastination. It's what you get for slacking off on pretty much everything school realted... But I'm back with yet another chapter!

My computer won't let me do page breaks for some odd reason, so bear with me on this!

Chapter 8-

"Where the hell have you been?" the headmaster asks angrily, just as I slowly pass though a small gap in the magnificent front oak doors. Hearing the severity in her tone of voice, I begin to wonder how much trouble I'll actually be in this time. Since I've never heard the headmaster swear in front of me before, I'm expecting the worst.

"I was just visiting Masud inside the east village." I say, with more caution and less exuberance.

The headmaster looks anything but rationalized. I don't know what it is, but something about her looks more on edge. Then I see it. Under the dark shadow she is amidst, her face is pale.

My guard is suddenly snapped into high gear, all my senses acute and alert, waiting to lunge at the slightest disruption.

My eyes look wildly around the room, but nothing seems wrong. Still my tense muscles tell me otherwise. I am about to open my mouth, to ask what was the matter, when she answers the question for me.

"Someone is here to see you, Meela. Now." she says with an icy phraseology. This can't be right.

"Look, if it's my mother again-"

"Hello Meela," a terribly deep voice called from around the corner. My vision darts to the source of the call, which is the far corner, blanketed with lurking shadows.

A man- a black, muscular man- walks slowly over to us, hand clutching a pistol, which is gleaming with an unpleasant satisfaction. My heart begins to race as he comes closer to us, knowing that there is no way I'd be able to win this one in a fight. He has on a red turban, like the ones members of Cults wear, and red robes to accompany it. Robes red as blood.

"Come any closer and you will regret ever coming here!" I shout, directing my words with force and intimidation.

The man let's out a low chuckle, bearing a pair of white, contrastable teeth.

"Witty and amusing. You might just be her after all," he muses. Confused and tenacious, I turn over to the headmaster, who hasn't said anything since I arrived back to the orphanage.

"This man wants to talk to you for a bit." she says quietly. She looks afraid, but has been standing her ground thoroughly throughout the conversation.

"About what?" I demand, letting my instincts cover my judgment.

The man could only snap in two with his bare hands...

The man's dark eyes don't leave mine. "Things. We're going to talk about things." he says solemnly.

Great, thanks. I can tell he's not a man for second chances. So instead of persuing my argument, I remain quiet, and wonder what the topic "things" are under.

"We don't have all day, either," the man says through clenched teeth, looking more than happy to drag me with him of necessary.

So I shrug, take one last look towards the headmaster- who is still gaping at that gun- and follow the man in robes down the hallway, feeling the weight of a thousand questions crushing my chest.

It's not that I'm scared of the man, or what he'll potentially do to me, I'm scared that what he'll say to me. If a huge black man came here all the way from God knows where, then it must be important.

He leads me into a large, windowless room, filled with piles of boxes that were banished here before I even arrived at this place. The man then closes the door behind him, making my insides hurt from stressed instincts even more.

"I think we might have found her, sir," the man says to an unknown source deeper into the room. I turn sharply, not aware that yet another will be joining us for this conversation that I never did agree to.

I hear shuffling and moving from the source I still cannot see clearly, through all the mess around us I'm surprised I can see the man, who is just a few feet away from me.

Then, out of the mountainous, stack after stack of boxes, another man emerges.

He is not strong- in any way. That is my first assertion I make. A flee attempt with him would be no problem- if only there wasn't a three hundred pound beast in my path.

He wears the same robes the black man is wearing, and is considerably older than he. Really old.

Noticeably less intimidating than the younger man, with a graven face I immediately associate with greed.

"Meela Nais?" he speaks, with an immediate recognition of an Egyptian accent.

I nod my head, and remember one of the most important things in survival. Put yourself in the lead.

"What do you want with me?" I say dangerously to the older man, obviously the one in charge here.

He just laughs, and pulls out a chair, sitting down comfortably. The other man does the same.

"Meela, we are a-"

"And how do you know my name?" I snap. The man's pleasurable smile remains.

"We know more about you than you think."

This still startles me, but it's not the time to press the question.

"Do you believe in curses, Meela?"

Odd question.

"It's all make- believe to me," I cross met arms uncomfortably. "Why?"

"What do you know about Egypt's history?"

I start with the basics. "Dates back to 1,000 bc. Began with Ramses, who built up his kingdom with slaves whom built up the great pyramids of Giza."

These were all elementary answers. They had thought us these things ever since we could read.

The old man does not seem satisfied.

He turns his head over towards his partner, giving him an unsure look before his attention once again remained on me.

My face soon begins to burn as to the incense of this question. The man in front of me looks smart. He should know himself. Still, my mind begins rapidly searching for answers, at least something to fill their apparent requirement. I find nothing.

"Egyptians used incense to further the mummification process," I say weakly.

The black mans eyes suddenly flare with savage. "That's it! Hafez, this obviously isn't the princess, so let's leave, or kill her. I'll do either one-"

"Lock- Nah please." the man apparently named Hafez strains, sighing rather loudly when he turns back to me. "She's just a girl. Let's just leave and look elsewhere!"

Good. So they're finally leaving me alone.

Lock-Nah rises first, looking at me like he'd be disappointed exiting here without murdering me. Hafez follows him, though slowly because of his old age.

"I really thought we were finally going to get something," he whispers towards Lock-Nah. But I can hear it as if he were directing his words towards me.

Then suddenly, I feel that omniscient tug in my stomach, the one that leads to trouble every time it appears.

"Imhotep was one of Egypt's greatest high priests."

I watch as the two men freeze before the door, as if paralyzed by my words. The old man slowly faces me, eyes full of shock and bewilderment.

"How do you know that?" He demanded, walking with alacrity towards me.

My mind thinks of how to turn my jumbled news of impulsive emotions into words- believable words. "I get these feelings sometimes. Feelings that i just can't explain well. It's like someone else is supplying my thoughts- telling me what to think, what to say, what to dream about even." I say, examining his expressions as I speak. They change from surprised, surprised to perplexed, and perplexed to shock.

I continue to stand impatiently, waiting for the man to make sense of himself. Instead, he motions to the black man, keeping his head low in fear that I might hear them yet again. I am only four feet away, might I add.

"Lock-Nah?" the man nods in response. "I think we found her."


	9. Chapter 9

Now it is my turn to be surprised, perplexed, and shocked- all at once.

"What do you mean 'found her'? Who am I?" I say angrily, waltzing right into their conversation. The older man has a look of surprise, yet the other looks as if he were waiting for me to do it. Nevertheless, the confusion building up inside of me was ready to burst.

"Meela- you'd better sit down for this," the older man named Hafez instructs calmly.

Calm is the last thing I want to be.

"Who the hell am I?"

All I receive is a cold, lingering stare of pure annoyance.

I am also no longer wary of the muscular black man, for now that I'm some important token in their little game, he cannot hurt me.

"We will give you all the information you need if you will just listen," the curator says feverishly.

It goes against everything I stand for, but I obey, and take a seat down on one of those old rocking chairs and make myself comfortable- as comfortable as I can be in an old rocking chair.

Hafez sits down across from me, and Lock- Nah remains standing. He becomes a dark shadow that is both protective and destructive. I just hoped I could stay on the protective side.

"Let's begin."

I hold my hand up in a quick but effective gesture.

"But first, a cup of coffee would be greatly appreciated."

* * *

><p>My breath makes little lines and streams of smoke in my cup as I let my hands burn through the glass cup. Coffee is a great thing.<p>

I often find relief in the drink, when times get stressed. Which would be right about now.

"You are very special Meela." the curator says. I try to keep my questions minimal, but they are gnawing on me like the hunger I have faced for many years.

"How?-"

"You are special because you are different." he persuades. "You have an Egyptian heritage that goes back thousands of generations. And the dreams..." Hafez veers his glance over to Lock-Nah for lack of words. He looks annoyed for a having to talk, but he grinds his teeth together and takes a seat next to his comrade.

"There's this story- a true story- in the midst of Pharaoh Set I's rein- where two princesses were born. Nefertiti was Pharaoh's daughter; she was skilled in combat and gifted in beauty."

The name strikes a chord inside me.

"The other princess, Anck-Su- Namun, was Pharaoh's betrothed and wife to be. No other man was allowed to touch her."

This name gets my mind into a frenzy of curiosity and anxiety- that was the name I knew for certain was in my dreams.

"Seti's high priest, Imhotep, was his most trusted advisor and friend. But, as fate would have it, Anck-Su- Namun and Imhotep fell in love, forsaking the throne and everything that came with it. Of course, Pharaoh did not know about this, their visits always secret and discrete. Only one knew about their love, Nefertiti. Her discontent grew more and more each day upon seeing her, but her father would never listen to her warnings. She was very skillful and talented woman, learning most of her combat from Anck- Su- Namun herself. Their secret remained safe for months. But one night, Pharaoh caught Imhotep and Anck- Su- namun together, and the two of them killer Pharaoh, having no other option. Imhotep was then thrown in prison by the Medjai, Pharaoh's bodyguards. After a quick escape, he stole Anck- Su- Namun's body and ventured into Hamunamptra, where he dared the God's anger by using the Book of the Dead to call upon her spirit from the underworld. But as fate would have it, the Medjai discovered him with her body, therefore sentencing Imhotep to the worst of all curses ever been preformed during that time. They preformed the Hom-Dai, and induced a curse upon him. If ever risen, he will kill all those whom opens his sacred chest, assembling their organs and fluids. And in doing so he will no longer be the undead, but a curse upon this earth."

"And what will he do once he has reached his full power?" I surprisingly understand it all; believe it all even.

Lock- Nah seals his eyes on mine and continues. "Even after thousands of years, his love for Anuck- Sunamoon is strong. He will stop at nothing until he has her. Then, the two shall use the Book of the Dead to its worst destruction, and rule the earth."

Then fear shrouds me. I already know what is to come next.

"You, Meela, are the key to his world domination." Hafez says with a voice that is completely certain. His voice is also the origin of a thousand emotions, a whipping torrent in my brain. Madness, sadness, aquatinted with grief: but all that comes out of me is "No. You bastards have the wrong orphan."

Hafez looks as if he is searching his mind for something persuasive to say. "You have dreams, don't you girl?"

I pass him a superstitious look, as to how exactly he knows so much about me.

"I can see it in your eyes. Knowledge, like no other mortal creature." He pauses for a moment, and then continues. "You are the key for his love to be whole again. Without you, he is and will always be nothing," he repeats, "it is, and always was your destiny. From the moment of your birth, you were a rightful reincarnation of Anck-Su- Namun."

I allow his words to sink through my skin and into my conscience. The storm inside of me is slowly dying down, and everything is beginning to make sense.

My brown eyes meet up with his- a look of understanding. "And what's in it for me?"

Lock-Nah let's out a scoff like laugh and I catch his willingness to say something, after five minutes of silence from his end.

Hafez gives him a sour look, but allows him to continue. "Imhotep will have the whole world in the palm of his hand. And, adding his eternal love for her, you will have everything you've ever wanted. Riches. Power." His last words strike a chord inside of me. Everything seems to come together in one clear view. One thing still questions me, though.

"What will I have to do?" I may not know many things about curses and reincarnations, but I know enough to know that nothing is as promising as it seems.

Hafez draws in a breath. "Your mortal body, of course, must be willing to become subject to Anck-Su- Namun's spirit once she is called upon from the underworld."

Of course it has to be.

It takes less than a second for my mind to comprehend this. "You mean I have to let her take over my body once I let her out of hell?"

"Well when you put it that way, yes," Lock-Nah throws a smirk at me.

Giving a roll of the eyes, it's obvious Hafez isn't one to take a joke. "You know it's what you have to do, Meela. Don't deny a destiny like this,"

Power. Riches. I could even feel a part of my soul yearning for the man they spoke of.

Could all this be really true?


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**: Wow, it HAS been a while! This chapters a tad short, but rest asurred: more is to come!

* * *

><p>I lay on my back for a moment and look up at the sky. It's a beautiful sky. Clouds roll by; they seem to be drifting any which way they please.<p>

It's calming here, just me, the sand and I. None of the usual squealing and laughter of the children who come out to play.

The wind blows, cooling me off temporarily before the radiated heat from the sand underneath me kicks in. I like to come here often, when the time is right, letting all my problems and worries be forgotten for a while. My mind takes time to rethink well... Everything. Priorities come into play. Strategies become determined. Survival always remains on top.

Except for today.

I knew these things and these things only. I was to be married in less than two days. It is forced, my mother having a communistic control of it all. Two men showed up and told me I was special. They basically said they'd force me into their group for power, something about my destiny. I haven't told them about my marriage. Together, they would end up being impossible to accomplish.

Masud and I had arranged to visit the bazaar this late afternoon, where, from experience, the hoards and masses of people begin to disperse back to their shabby houses, carrying what all they managed to savage that day.

I'm not one to usually look forward to a trip there, but my last outing with him ended up with Masud gawking over my shoes. He had promised a new pair as soon as he would be able to get away.

Today is also supposed to be the first "official" meeting with Hafez and Lock-Nah, which is why I am sitting here atop the sands.

I always feel more attune when in direct contact with the earth. My heart beats slower, finally taking its chance to breathe. Hands unclench (for a change) and eyes close. I get the images then: skirting across my mind like a broken record tape. Faces of whom I cannot recognize.

My eyes open in frustration. I'll have to tell them about Masud eventually, and I guess that day is today. Every fiber in my being is against it though; how weak I will seem obeying my mother like a child! It is not my choice, nor will it ever be to marry. And how can I tell Masud about this?

Quite simply, I cannot.

I walk, back to the orphanage, with feet that are lead, knowing they are waiting for me behind those doors.

Life, I'm afraid, is never too fair.

* * *

><p>The hallways I have walked through practically my whole life now seems like a never-ending journey. I think, <em>is the journey even worth it?<em>

This is yet another question I cannot answer.

"There you are!" Lock-Nah grumbles as he sees me turn the corner. I look up surprisingly, thinking of what exactly I should say. My idea of my absolute protection becomes less and less effective in my head.

"Hafez has been looking everywhere for you, girl." he says due to my silence. I think of something quick.

"Was that meeting today?" I say with ignorance in my innocent demeanor.

"Don't play stupid with me." he threatens, his eyes taking a dangerous lunge at me. I only smile.

"You forget who you are speaking to, Lock-Nah. I am, indeed, a great and noble princess,"

His fury gives me a sense of pleasure as we both stroll down the hall to our meeting. I can imagine Masud is waiting for me outside the grounds already, and I'd rather be shopping in a God- forsaken bazaar than talking about destinies and dead people.

When I push open the old wooden door, Hafez looks up at us in worry.

"You were supposed to be here a long time ago, Meela!" he says with that certain tone that only he can give me. Rolling my eyes, I begin overlaying my story in my head.

"So listen," I begin, "I would just love to have a little meeting with you two boys, but I have... Other plans."

I watch as their faces turn angered.

"What could be more important than-"

"My mother has plans for me to marry a rich village boy just days from today." I say bluntly.

"Mother?"

"Marriage?"

* * *

><p>I start with Hafez first.<p>

"Yes, my mother. The whore that threw me here in the first place."

I turn to Lock-Nah, not really surprised that he thinks of marriage as a foreign term. "Marriage. Two people... Throwing their souls away for love..."

"I know what marriage is," he says through clenched teeth. "But why are you-"

"My mother wants money. That is why she is forcing me to marry a prince" -taking a glance at Lock-Nah- "because princes have money."

There is a silence after this. One I am more than delighted to keep. Things have grown rather tedious.

I can see Hafez ready to speak. "So this is why you're skipping a meeting? Might I remind you, our first meeting? To go on a date with some boy?"

"It's not a date." I say firmly.

"If you're willingly going on an... Outing with him, you must have some feelings for him-"

"I don't love him, if that's what you're implying." I say, growing impatient.

"Then you must loathe him," Hafez says.

"I do not hate him, either."

Lock-Nah and Hafez exchange glances, trying to conceal their smiles. I give a roll of my eyes, and begin for the door.

"And common," I say when I'm at the door, "I think Imhotep can stay dead one more day."

* * *

><p>"I thought you'd never show up." Masud says once he catches sight of me. I sigh, wishing badly that I could just tell him everything. But I of all people know this is a wish that will never come true.<p>

"Well I'm here now," I say, brushing off the question I want so badly to avoid.

"Where were you?"

Damn.

Smiling at him sweetly, I reply, "the headmaster was getting on to me again for neglecting my laundry for the past few weeks."

"You're laundry?" he repeats.

"As you can see I'm not much of a house wife,"

I can tell Masud is at a loss of words, so gladly, I change the subject.

"I didn't come all this way for cleaning tips, you know."

He gives me a skeptical look. "Okay then, let's get you those new shoes."

With a heavy and suspicious sigh, the both of us enter the bazaar.


End file.
